


the best of all the greeks

by TheTartWitch



Series: One-shots of AUs [6]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Hallucinations, M/M, Silena's POV, ghosty Patroclus, history repeats itself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 17:29:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8542252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTartWitch/pseuds/TheTartWitch
Summary: Silena's struggle is similar in nature to another of history's forgotten.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the back cover of "The Song of Achilles", which is like the better, gayer version of Percy Jackson. Yup. You should all read it.   
> Also, Patroclus and Achilles undertones to the whole Silena/Clarisse scene in Battle of Manhattan. Got the gay vibe there. Just saying. ;)

Charlie is everything she wishes she could be; Clarisse is everything she is in her own dreams, late at night after her cabin-mates have gone to sleep and there is no one awake in the entirety of the world but her. It devastates her when Charlie dies. She doesn’t understand how everyone simply moves on; there is something about the way he passes that shatters her: in the name of his friends, his family, in a way she never could. He gave everything.

She mourns in a quiet way, feels the pull of it on the inside of her ribs like a net, catching every breath she can breathe before it settles in her lungs. Once, she catches Percy’s eye across the camp. They pinch at the edges, regretful, before he is forcefully distracted. That’s alright; she didn’t expect his attention to stay. He’s always been the busy sort, mind flitting from one threat to another. It’s how they all are. 

She catches herself seeing things differently: fallen friends become warriors in gilt armor; Annabeth’s clever mind betrays her, turns her into a thin, shrewd man with a scarred leg and eyes that see through the smallest deception with skill; Percy’s prowess on the field polishes him until he shines in desert sunlight. Clarisse’s arrogance over a chariot turns her hair a golden yellow, her eyes a stunning blue, her spear a weapon of hopeless destruction. She is seeing through the eyes of another, one who lived through this all before. 

He smiles at her when she stays up late to worry. He isn’t bad-looking, but his gentle smile and thin, precise figure don’t make him especially handsome. He is not a demigod; his parents were an unfortunate breed of mortal, neglectful and unappreciative, but that doesn’t seem to bother him.

_ You are going to lose her _ , he whispers as she dons Clarisse’s armor,  _ this way ends in suffering for all.  _ She sees his death at the hands of his enemy, how he caused his love’s own death simply with the choices he made.

“That’s alright,” she says in the emptiness of the armor tent, “because after the pain is a happy ending for everyone left.”

He doesn’t correct her. She doesn’t think he knows how.

_ It’s fated _ , he tells her when they see the drake.  _ That drake is Hector, dear girl, and this chariot is dragging you to the spear.  _

She doesn’t flinch. Her battle-cry doesn’t waver.

In the end it doesn’t matter.

\--

Clarisse drags the drake’s body behind her chariot for hours, damaging the enemy’s morale considerably. Silena watches her scream shrilly and wail at the sky for the entirety of it. His arm is around her shoulders, holding her steady as she watches her best friend grieve her loss. She can see his memories overlapping in this moment: Clarisse flickers beside a boy with a countenance like the sunny sky, streaked with dirt and blood and tears, dragging the result of their misplaced pride behind them like an apology. 

_ Was it worth the pain?  _ He asks once, as the sunlight fades to stars and the Battle for Manhattan draws to a close. One of Clarisse’s siblings finally stops her, gathers her in their arms, and lets her vent the rest of her grief into their shirt. Selena shrugs. 

_ It is. It’s too brilliant to regret. She’s not him, not entirely. _ She turns to go, ready for whatever is left.  _ She’ll return to her life. This won’t be the end of her.  _

Patroclus doesn’t say anything to that, but she can tell what he wants to from the look in his eyes. 

_ Come _ , she says to him, smiling for the first time in years,  _ take me to meet your godling, older brother.  _

_ I am not -.  _ He starts, eyebrows scrunching together. She cuts him off.

_ In family, in camp, the godly part of you doesn’t count. It’s what’s left when that’s gone that really counts the most, Patroclus, and you never had it to begin with. I think that is what really matters. _

**Author's Note:**

> You know the drill, guys. Thoughts? :)


End file.
